Questions like a Whirlwind
by DarkestWolfx
Summary: He couldn't put it into words. He wasn't sure they'd understand if he did. He felt like a child, he felt like a murder, he felt… like he'd lost something and had no clue how to put it back in place by himself. Spoilers for 'Brains V Brawn' (S2E26) (16/12/17).


I will miss series 2, but the final was quite cool. Let's just hope they give us more soon. In the meantime, I _will_ be writing for you all so have no fear! Enjoy this little tag too.

And yes, the title is also a lyric from the song 'Flowers for a Ghost' by Thriving Ivory, but that wasn't where my mind went until I'd thought of the title ironically.

And gosh, I know I should come to expect this, but this is the longest of my recent series 2 episode tags so far.

* * *

He couldn't put it into words. He wasn't sure they'd understand if he did. He felt like a child, he felt like a murder, he felt… like he'd lost something and had no clue how to put it back in place by himself.

It was like needing on the last piece to the puzzle, and having lost it. You would never find it. Someone else always would, even if they found it somewhere _you'd_ looked. It was just one of those things in life you had to accept.

You couldn't complete every puzzle without help.

But he didn't want to ask anyone around him for help.

How could he? How could he be all the things he was supposed to be – a good brother, a confident leader, a strong adult – if he did? How could he confide something like _that_ in someone and expect them not to turn away?

There was too much on his mind; it felt like a hurricane. A non-moving hurricane.

He supposed it was good he travelled back to the Island in his own company.

He supposed it was good he only hurt his hand when he smashed it against the controls.

* * *

"I hope we get a break." Alan bubbled away excitedly, munching on the cookies he'd managed to somehow convince Virgil to pick up on their way home. What shop they'd landed Thunderbird Two at he still had no idea.

"Or, if the world can't be kind enough to give us that, something easy would be nice." Virgil added, reaching over to grab one before throwing himself down on the sofa.

Gordon, never one to miss out on the excitement, soon piped up too, but he was far happier with those ridiculous Celery bars (although they were probably healthier at least, he supposed), "Oh, oh, can we have a lie in tomorrow?"

"If no rescues come up, there is nothing I desire more." Virgil answered between mouthfuls of cookie crumbs, and he was far too tired to pull the pilot up on it.

"I bet the next call will be a sea quake."

"You don't get that many of them."

"You get a fair few."

"A rock slide is so much more likely naturally."

"Er… I think you'll both be wrong. Do you know how many asteroids there are up there? I think I'll be right."

"Bet on it, Al?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Virge?"

"Only if we're all in."

"Yes!" Alan and Gordon seemed very enthusiastically behind that idea, and Virgil had already turned to him.

"Come on, Scott. You never said. What's your favourite old-fashioned rescue?"

"Um…" It had actually been so long since they'd had one he wasn't sure if he was certain any more. "I'll go with a malfunction."

"That's too vague."

"Yeah, a seaquake could be classed as a natural malfunction."

"Well, then I can safely join in the bet, knowing I won't lose any money." Gordon had started saying something about it being too general, thus cheating, but he wasn't really paying much attention. He was tired enough that he could have fallen asleep on his feet, but something was keeping him awake, and he had a relatively good idea as to what it could be.

He just didn't want to accept that.

He didn't what to think about _that._

He could feel a sleepless night coming on though, and every so often he found his eyes trailing across towards the wall. He was waiting for a really important call.

And trying not to let on _anything_ to anyone else in the room.

Which was almost _impossible_.

"Goodnight Tracy Island!" Gordon proclaimed with a burst of energy you wouldn't expect from one who had claimed to be _so tired_ the whole way home, however the fact he'd sat up for about five hours since probably spoke volumes.

"Me too! I want to sleep in." Alan proclaimed loudly, following his direct elder with a similar streak of enthusiasm. After a moment though, he spun around on his heels, eyes looking darker than Scott had seen on him in ages. " _No one_ wake me tomorrow."

"Or _me._ " Gordon added, already halfway out the room. _That pair_ , he shook his head, they always seemed to resort to copying each other.

Virgil seemed to be sharing similar thoughts and dreams of sleep as he yawned, then stretched. He seemed to be debating whether to go or stay. After a moment, he rose to his feet and stretched again.

"Well, the idea isn't a bad one." He nearly didn't catch all of the words as the middle child seemed to be trying to speak through what was clearly a yawn. He turned back around, seemingly slightly shocked to find him stuck to the sofa still. The furrow in the artists brow was actually quite amusing to see. "Are you coming?"

He would love to sleep, but there was something on his mind first which he needed to sort. Else, he knew he'd never rest. He played it down to Virgil though, he didn't want the younger to worry, or start fretting, or change his mind and volunteer to stay up. It was clear they were all tired, and he wanted his brothers to go to bed.

"Um, I'm gonna' stay up for a bit."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I just want to get some thinking in." It seemed as though he hadn't been very convincing. Well, he wasn't really attempting to spin any lies. He did wasn't to stay up, and do thinking of some sort. He just didn't want to be explicitly lying. The problem with being tired though, was likely that none of his expressions were schooled.

It probably explained why Virgil made the following offer, "I can stay up with you, if you want?"

But that wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want Virgil to be worrying about anything non-sleep related. They finally had a chance to possibly get some of that with The Hood out of the way. It finally seemed like a victory over the man who had _murdered_ their father. The man who he knew he _should_ have _left_ to _die_ down in that tunnel… _but that was never what Dad stood for_ … so it was never who he'd be. It didn't mean he didn't consider it, that he didn't wonder what it would be like, whether the world could be better – whether _he'd_ feel better.

When he'd pushed The Hood into the rescue capsule, well… it was safe to say it had nearly been something else. He couldn't lie: it had crossed his mind. It would have been perfectly easy for him to choke the man and be done with it. But then, it wasn't who he was brought up to be, it was what IR stood for, nor taught him, and it wasn't who he _wanted_ to be. Whether he desired a world free of The Hood or not, murdering the man wasn't the way he saw fit to obtain it.

Even though it was probably _deserved._

"No, Virge, get some sleep."

"Alright." For a moment he wondered if the younger would, but his footsteps started, reassuring him the brown eyed Tracy was doing exactly that. His voice added a new layer to the sound and they were words melodious, "I'm playing the piano when I get up."

"I'll be more than glad to hear it." They hadn't a piano interlude in ages, and it was long overdue; the family gathering and occasion it tended to be around the instrument. It would soothe his soul, and hopefully allow the beast to rest. He smiled, a true smile now and he knew there would be more of them, "Something for me to look forward to."

Virgil gave him the brightest of smiles back, the ones which reminded him of Dad and Mum at the same time and he was happy to end the evening on that note. It seemed the middle child was too, all worries of his own clearly settled, "Night Scott."

"Night." He waited long into the night really, long after Virgil's footsteps had drowned out. He waited until it was silent apart from the light sound of crickets and the ripples on the pool water. Until it was only the light soughing of the palm trees which gave away the wind's presence. Until the only significant source of light was the near full moon.

The moon made him think of someone else. Someone he'd been thinking about during the entirety of the day, but more so now.

He was surprised, knowing what he knew from Brains, that John hadn't called this evening. Usually it was standard. EOS had made their scheduled check-in after dinner, insisting that John's attention had been called to something urgent with one of the transmitters and they outright could not speak to him since they'd be a distraction. When Virgil had asked which transmitter, the AI had become quite cagey and called Gordon a 'Stupid Fish' before ending the call.

Gordon had sat shocked for ages before he managed to roll words off his tongue again, and even then they were simple, 'but I never said anything'.

It had bothered him all evening, but he took the AI (who John assured him was one hundred percent no longer evil) at face value, and swallowed his concerns. They were having a quiet and nice evening, each and every brother relaxed, so he decided he'd make his own addresses to the issue when all went silent.

That time, was now.

So he made the call. And was thrilled when it was answered. He hadn't believed the AI like the rest of his brothers, but there was no way he was going to bring that up unless John did – or gave him proof it was true.

"Hey John."

"Scott." The red head didn't seem that shocked that he'd called. He did look tired though, but then the brunette supposed he was reflecting that image right back at him. "Can't sleep?"

He definitely was, either that (and just as, maybe even more likely) or John just knew him way too well.

"What makes you say that?"

John gave him a small smile, almost as though he'd been expecting this, waiting for a routine call. Which it was he supposed, with their being no other way to explain it, "You usually call to talk to me when you can't."

It was true, but he always liked to have an ace up his sleeve, and tonight, he was just lucky one seemed to have magicked its way there. "Well, I could say the same then, couldn't I?"

"Sorry?" John's brow furrowed in stark confusion.

"You usually wait up for me to call and talk you when you can't." They were a right pair. Dad had always remarked that, whenever he'd get up for a glass of water (as was so often his routine) and find the pair of them chattering away on the sofas. Then he'd make them all hot chocolate, and sleeping suddenly seemed easier after that.

And he'd planned this conversation to some extent inside his head, but that one memory brought it back and changed everything. He had a new plan, a new vision and he wanted that to happen now it had crossed his mind.

"Why don't you come down here? Have hot chocolate?"

"It wouldn't be the same if you made it." He knew his direct younger had a fair point.

"Well, you always came the closest to replicating Dad's method of hot chocolate. And now I've thought about and said it aloud, I _really_ want one."

John's smile turned _very_ sly, "I could have one up here."

"That's just mean." He said it with a smile, and John answered him with a laugh. He didn't think he was sliding very far along the scale of twisting the younger's arm though.

"You could go, John." EOS suddenly interrupted, sliding into view. "I can watch the world."

"It's alright, EOS. I don't want to miss anything." He felt forgotten as a part of the conversation all of a sudden, the spare wheel in the three-way chat. What was there to miss at the moment up there anyway?

"I can monitor the signal with thirty times your current efficiency at the moment, John. Usually, you are quite superior at this job for a human, but right now, you should probably join your brothers."

"Wait, was that an insult?" Both of them seemed to have remembered he was listening in now and John could only roll his eyes, clearly reading his mind, "From EOS to John?"

"Contrary to your belief, Scott, I do not escape the occasional jab from her which you all get."

"Occasional? It's a least once a week for Gordon. Bet you have a shorter record."

"This would be the second occasion." EOS supplied merrily.

"I correct myself: shortest record. Technology loves you." John chuckled, but wasn't given much chance to say anything else as EOS continued.

"The Air Brain has a point that you should join him. My recent learning, and general studies of your behaviour, helps me understand that humans do like hot chocolate and other human company."

This time, he was the one who cut John off from speaking, with quite the triumphant smile to begin with. It seemed it was possible for EOS to get the knack of subtle, harmless betrayal.

"One, thank you EOS. Two, please tell me I'm not supposed to be Air Brain?"

"Scott, you don't want me to answer that." His brother's tone was almost dead, and that was what told him the name was serious.

"No, you're right John, I don't." That was it: written in cement. And he thought he'd escaped gaining a nickname. EOS had always called him Scott to his face, but it seemed John had grown accustomed to a different name referencing system entirely. "Come on, even your AI is telling you too."

"Well…" He could see the sliding scale in his mind and knew there wasn't far to go from the look in his brother's eyes. He just had to put his right foot forward.

"Please John. You know I want you to, you know you want to." The red head did look to be strongly considering it. "We haven't had a proper late-night conversation since the fiasco at the Ranch, that means I've gone months without hot chocolate. If you do it for no other reason, do it for the fact _I_ am superior homemade hot chocolate deprived."

"I suppose." He thought he'd won until John took a breath, "It's just…"

"Just what? EOS can monitor rescue calls. She's high functioning, that's what you're always telling me."

"I know-"

"So it's insulting if you don't go John." For a moment he thought he'd become a ventriloquist before it fully occurred to him. Oh… well hoo-ray for EOS! John hated the thought of insulting anyone (unless of course your name was Fischler, who had officially and finally set himself a record by becoming the first). That had to be the deal clincher. He wasn't entirely sure what happened next, just that the AI seemed to be attempting to force John's hand – for once speaking in _his_ favour – when suddenly the red-head's already pale complexion nearly become ghostly, "The GDF are easy to hack. They haven't noticed you're sitting in their systems yet, so they won't notice me either."

 _What?_

John was shaking his head at the AI, and what he was trying to say the eldest as no clue as the second Tracy had half turned away from him now. The one thing he could understand was clearly this was something John didn't want him hearing.

"Their reports are rubbish, I know, but I've learnt enough from the data I've been studying to understand all their abbreviations and short hands. Like you're doing, I won't go near anything of Colonel Casey's, since it's likely she'll recognise our call signal, but I won't hesitate to search everything else. In fact, I was thinking it might be beneficial for us to try an algorithm-"

"EOS," Only John could make an AI halt in the middle of a clearly unending explanation, on what he was now sure was the main issue halting John from jumping ship. He didn't doubt that John wanted to come and sit down here with blankets and hot chocolate, and he'd already seen the inclination cross those green eyes. "Stop."

EOS promptly said naught. So it seemed, did John. He decided he was probably the only one going to speak, or that he better if he wanted the conversation to continue. John looked incredibly guilty as he began to pose his question though.

"Are you going to tell me from up there or down here?"

"Give me ten minutes." By the sound of it, he gathered the choice was down.

"Five?"

John was always one for meeting in the middle ground, "Seven and a half exactly."

"Whatever you want. I won't argue with math." It had never been his strong point at school, not that he let Alan catch onto that last year when the kid still had schoolwork to do. Quite frankly, John tutoring him was a secret from everyone, but the pair of them. A lot of things were actually when he thought about it properly.

He was however, good at counting time exactly in his mind and in exactly six minutes he left the living room and headed down to the hangar bay. By the time the space elevator landed securely he was there waiting patiently. John seemed slightly shocked to see him at first, but then shook his head in the way which translated to, 'I should have known you would'.

He gave his direct younger a smile and was glad when John returned it, even though it looked far wearier than the spaceman had when they were talking via Thunderbird Five. As soon as he was in reach, he swooped his arm out to wrap it around John's shoulders. He made no comment on the tension he could feel being held in them, and was more than glad when John chose to put his free arm around his back. Otherwise he'd had found the same level of tension echoing in his. Grief, they did hold the same tendencies.

"How about, you make the hot chocolate – because we've established that I can't – whilst I go and grab some blankets, since it's something I can manage?" John chuckled and nodded, so that become exactly what they did.

* * *

He made it back before John had quite finished the homemade (he was definitely the only one who managed that to perfection) hot chocolates. He'd set the blankets and pillows down in the living room, picking them the two sofas over by Dad's desk. It was their usual arrangement after all. They tended to settle down facing each other, leaning against the wall behind them almost as though in bed. It was just something he liked. It didn't take long for the younger to appear though and he nearly took the pale fingers off his brother's hand as he scrabbled for the handle of his cup.

"You never fail me." He stated after taking that first, glorious sip whilst the red head climbed in beneath his own blankets.

"Cheers to Dad."

"Definitely." He didn't know how John had managed to work it out, the recipe to a Tracy family secret. He'd put it down to attuned taste, because creating theories was just so hard, and not his area of expertise. Which is why he went straight to questions as opposed to attempting explanations, "So, do you want to tell me _why_ you were hacking the GDF? Not that I entirely disapprove, just..?"

"I wanted to keep a check on their updates." It didn't seem like John was planning on holding back the answers. At least, with a little poking and prodding maybe.

"Anything specific?"

John's eyes turned cold, which probably told him everything without the need for the following words, "You don't have to ask."

"No. You're right, I don't."

"We've under estimated him before."

"He can't hurt us again."

"Of course he can." It was so much certainty, so much held back anger like he'd never quite known from his closest in age brother. "Scott, he doesn't have to do anything else to us to hurt us for the rest of our lives, because he's already done it."

That was quite true: he killed Dad. And that hurt every day.

"He's a dangerous man."

He nodded, trying to think of something better than the typical words which he eventually agreed with his mind to let roll off his tongue, "I know."

"Do we? Because we just let him out of our sights."

"The GDF will watch him. He's in their prison."

John made some kind of… scoff? And promptly rolled his eyes as though the idea was preposterous, "Prison - exactly. My question: why? Does it not strike you as strange?"

"He met his match."

"No!" The unwavering insistence as what knocked him for six. "He hated prison. Why would he _let_ himself go back there unless he had a plan?"

That was when it clicked with him. John wasn't listening out generally, he was listening for a very particular call. A dangerous call as far as he saw it.

"So what were you doing? Waiting for someone to send a call for help?"

"That's exactly what I was doing! That's what we do." And then came the sudden blip, the one hundred-and-eighty degree turn in tone, "Although if I'd known, I'd never have sent you _that_ call."

" _You_ don't mean that."

" _You're_ not my feelings."

"No, _I'm your brother_." John blinked, and sealed his lips shut, clearly out of arguments. After all, they all knew John didn't argue back without a decent point. "And I felt the same."

He suddenly felt very cold, like they'd moved to the Arctic Circle somehow.

"I could have killed him, John." He was aware he was making his own u-turn now, but he couldn't really clock John's features. His vision was going unexplainedly blurry. "He was there, he was _right_ in _front_ of _me_ and he was practically _begging_ for _us_ to _save_ him. That was it. He wasn't doing _anything._ He didn't have any weapons he was just _there_ and…"

"Scott?" He couldn't look up. He couldn't risk looking John in the eye and letting the red head see every rising demon through them. Not because he didn't trust him, not because John hadn't seen them before, but just _because_ it was too much even for him to bare looking in the mirror. Because he knew he'd _thought_ it, and that was enough to _haunt_ him.

"I could have strangled him. I wanted to. I could have left, him, dropped him, pushed him into the way of a laser. And what's worst is that I didn't, I blinking rescued him. _I_ rescued the man who _murdered_ the man we loved and I did that so he could go rot in prison as opposed to getting exactly what he deserves and…. It nearly cost us because I made the stupid choice to save him!"

"Scott."

"I mean The Mechanic fired at _all_ of us. He could have taken any of us out just to _kill_ that man and I should have let him do that. Alan was right. I should have let him have exactly what he wanted. It's probably only pure luck he didn't fire at _you_. He could have done. If he'd had one smart brain cell to think about how to get us to hand The Hood over…"

"Scott-"

He had no clue what had suddenly enthused him with anger, maybe it was the fact that John had brought him a realisation he'd been attempting to avoid looking at.

"And now he can rot in prison. Three cheers for prison, because you know what? You're exactly right. He escaped before, why was I so foolish to think handing him to the GDF to lock up and throw away the key was a _good_ idea!"

"Sco-"

"He'll just find some other way to get out and wreak chaos, and I mean who knows, maybe it will be one of you he kills next time and that will be on _me_ too and-"

"Scott!"

"I couldn't live with that!"

"Why do you think I've been trying so hard to find him?" John responded without hesitation, matching him in every way and on all levels. That was a fair point he was making. "Scott, you need to breathe."

That was also a fair point.

So he did. He wasn't sure how much it helped though, other than to give his brain a much-needed breath of air. John didn't give him a chance to fall back into his rant though.

"I know what you mean. All I could do up there today was tell you the obvious. You could see that laser coming towards you not long after I could. And quite frankly, Scott, I felt useless."

"But-"

"Don't say a word."

"Ok."

"That counts as a word, you know." This time he simply nodded, and John at least seemed to smile at that, taking the simple jest at face value.

"I _wanted_ him to fire at _me._ Because if he was, he couldn't be firing at all of you. And all that time, I knew he wasn't going to, because I had nothing of use to him. And all this time The Hood's been out there, I've always known he'd never get me, because I'm not on Earth most of the time. I would have given anything to have put any one of you in my place, because I'd have known you were safe."

"John, you know The Hood could target you. In fact, remember he nearly did."

"That's different – he didn't recognise me."

"Only because you're not on Earth half the time, which is a blessing." He couldn't believe half of what he'd just heard really. "And you're not useless. I love having your voice in my ear. It gets me through half the tragedies we go to."

He hadn't expected – of all the reactions he'd braced himself for – for John to laugh.

"What? What about this is funny?"

"That you'll rationalise to me and expect me to listen, but if I was to do the same to _you_ , you'd give me reasons for why it wasn't rational."

"I wouldn't."

"Would."

"Try me then."

"I will."

"Good. You can make me another hot chocolate when I prove you right." John gave him no direct reply to that, but his face looked entirely calm, like there was nothing to fear, or that he would have made the hot chocolate regardless.

"Scott, you're well within your rights to have felt wrong rescuing the man who killed Dad. Also, you're hardly a bad person for wanting to kill him. I think we all feel like that, but it's easier to _think_ it than actually _do_ it when you're given the chance."

"Really? If it had been Alan's decision, the man would be vaporised by now."

"Score one to me."

"What?" John gave him no response – not that he left him much time too – so he continued. "I don't understand you sometimes, you think it's ok for me to think about _murdering_ someone."

"Really, Scott, I'll be honest with you; _I_ considered telling you to let The Mechanic have him."

"There's nothing wrong with that. He killed Dad, you're allowed to want to strike back at him."

John pursed his lips, clearly a choice to keep a smile from them, "And I think that's point proven."

He froze for a moment trying to think how anything he'd just said could have proven John's idiot idea that he… oh…

"If it's alright for _me_ and for _Alan,_ and for _Gordon_ and _Virgil_ to want to murder him, then it's alright for _you_ to feel the same."

"I suppose, it's just-" He didn't know how to word it, and it terms out he didn't have to.

"You feel like you can't, because it will cloud your judgement as a leader. Well tough. He's the one person the rules are never going to apply to. We all know that."

"Yeah…" He sighed, leaning his head back against the pillow he'd rested high against the wood for this very purpose. "You clearly think he's going to get away."

"I just don't want to take chances."

"Nor do I." He watched as John set his mug down on the table before settling against his own pillows, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he watched every organised movement. "We should do this more often."

John chuckled briefly, shaking his head as though he'd gone mad in the past few seconds, "What are you on about? We already do pretty much five nights out of seven."

"No, I mean like this, in person. The old-fashioned way."

"Hot chocolate and blankets."

"On sofas in the moonlight."

"Careful, you'll turn it into a cheesy film."

"Oh please no. Gordon makes us watch enough of those when it's his choice for movie night. Really, who would have thought it?"

"Hmm… speaking of, you owe me."

"For the fake call, I know." He really hadn't forgotten, he just hadn't thought of the perfect pay back yet. The typical and to-be expected silence fell between them and he watched as John leant his head right back – almost as though his neck had no bones in it (which he'd never understand) – until he could see the white circle through the windows. It was a really short amount of time which could have felt like many happy centuries when speech returned.

"Shall we shake up old fashioned traditions?" He didn't really know what John had in mind, but he shrugged. Anything was fine with him right now.

"Can we still have hot chocolate, blankets and good flowing conversation?" John nodded before throwing his covers away and grabbing both of their empty mugs.

"You grab those," He gestured to the blanket and pillow assortment they'd buried themselves under, "And meet me outside."

"Outside?" John stopped, turning on his heel at the question.

"Yeah. Problem?"

"No, Sir." He gave a mock salute, putting on the funny accent Alan had always found hilarious when he was young. John chuckled and shook his head before muttering something about him never having grown up. As he collected up the assortment of blankets and cushions he realised he was happy with that.

* * *

John's grand idea had been for them to sit on the deck chairs beneath the stars. It wasn't a bad one actually. They manoeuvred them so they had about three each in a long row opposite each other, and it was almost exactly like being in the lounge, but freer, somehow more peaceful. It was just a touch more separate from IR out here.

He was good at counting time, and John was good at counting time providing he had the stars. They decided they been out here for an hour and a half, prattling on about nothing of importance. Perfect. The way he needed his day to end.

He sighed though as he thought about how chilly it was becoming even with the blankets.

"We're going to be shattered in the morning."

John shrugged, settling his red head better against his pillow, "Speak for yourself. I'm nocturnal."

"Most likely because you now live in space. It must be hard to tell between night and day."

"Very funny." He'd actually thought it was one of his better ones. "What will we do?"

He instantly knew which conversation they'd returned to and he had the answer. He'd been mulling over it, so that he had a decent answer to give to the question when, not if, it came up.

"We won't say anything to them. I want them to think it will alright."

"And if it is?"

"We win." He hadn't thought about the other end of the spectrum and he had no clue why it suddenly occurred to him _now,_ nor why the words just rolled off his tongue. "If it isn't…" He wasn't honestly sure what they should do if The Hood did manage to make a reappearance.

"We fight."

"That's what we've been doing. He just comes back."

"And he'll win if we give up."

"You've been thinking about this too, haven't you?" It was clear to him now John had been looking for a way to answer his own question all this time.

"Yeah. Because… if he comes back and we don't…"

"It's like surrendering." John nodded his affirmative and that was enough. He held out his hand and it took very little effort or prompting for the red head to reach out and take it. He really did forget how much he missed having his brother on Earth with him, especially at times like this. "I'm glad I didn't kill him."

"So am I. You'd never have lived with it." He wondered whether he'd known that deep down, whether the niggle of it had been holding him back from turning a shove into a chokehold. Or maybe it was the thought of this family because they always were on his mind.

"Don't go looking for danger. I'll never live with it."

"Fair." He watched as the green orbs strayed to the sky and let his blue ones follow. He'd never really seen the beauty in it all until so recently in life, but he knew now why John had such a love for the border above. He suddenly felt rather sleepy, but he wanted to know something before he fell asleep, he wanted to be certain of what he was waking up to for once.

"John."

"Scott." The younger sounded just as weary all of a sudden.

"Are you going to stay?"

"If we get a call-"

"Until we get one?"

"I suppose."

"If it's any help, Virgil's promised me he's playing the piano tomorrow."

"Well you should have said that sooner." He chuckled, just from how peculiar it was for everyone in their family to be won over my music of all things. About a minute had passed when he spoke again, and he honestly hadn't been expecting for John to still be awake, especially as his eyes were closed, least of all expecting the red head to give him an answer.

"You never know, we might break a record."

"Don't jinx it and there might be a chance." It was a grumbled answer, but one nevertheless.

"My lips are sealed."

As John smiled he knew they'd be ok. _All of them_. Whatever came next, even if it was a storm by the name of their enemy. For the first time in recent weeks, certainly after the toll of today, _he_ felt ok. He no longer felt that he should be guilty for wanting such primal revenge, he no longer felt that he should be holding back. Looking up at the stars, it felt a little like being reborn.

"John?"

"Hmm." The red head sounded sleepy through his mumbles.

"We should make this a new family tradition."

"You're returning to stating the obvious." He smiled at the simple observation, and watched as John sleepily shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with you."

He burst out laughing and John soon joined him in the chuckle fest.

He knew they'd talked for hours by the time they finally dosed off, wrapped up in the pile of too many blankets and pillows.

* * *

He knew they'd slept for hours by the time they woke up.

He wasn't entirely sure how they'd slept through the youngest three joining them, Gordon laying happily above the blankets in the winter sunlight, whilst Virgil and Alan had found a way to infiltrate beneath them. He wasn't sure either how John could have stayed asleep with the weight of Alan on his chest. Or how he could have missed the pins and needles in his feet from Gordon's choice of location directly between the two of them. At least Virgil had chosen a sensible place to lie.

Still, it wasn't really morning when Virgil finally got around to touching the piano keys, far more like evening, but none of them cared.

They did care when they broke their three-day streak, and he decided he and John should celebrate with ice cream.

They cared when they finally got six (and a half) days to spend as a family and called that the biggest win possible in consideration of the recent weeks.

And family tradition found the need to expand all of a sudden when the youngest three realised John could still make Dad's hot chocolate. The fight it had took for them to let their older brother return to Thunderbird Five had been almost impossible for him to defuse, because yes, he did love hot chocolate, and yes, that was a valid reason for John to stay on Earth.

But he knew there would be so many more of their evenings to come, so he had no worries about the special hot chocolates disappearing any time soon.

For the first time in a long time actually, he realised he didn't have that many worries at all.


End file.
